


False Attack

by Geonn



Category: Sanctuary (TV), Warehouse 13
Genre: 1890s, F/F, Pre-Relationship, Swords & Fencing, Teasing, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:02:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They keep each other on their toes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	False Attack

It's nothing large, no great giveaway, but yet it echoes in H.G.'s mind. A scuff of sole on hardwood, the sound of a sleeve kissing the edge of a bookshelf. She lowers her pen, her movements calm and unhurried. The library has fallen still and silent in the last few hours, but she believes she would have heard the approach regardless. It's been ages since anyone caught her truly off her guard.

The schematics of her latest brainchild are nearly complete and one could make the argument she's earned a break. She reaches for her cup of tea as if to take a sip as she knocks her pen to the floor. The sound it makes upon landing is louder than her enemy's tell-tale. H.G. bends to lift it, then launches herself to the right just as the epee swings through the space her head had just occupied. 

H.G. flattens her palms on the floor. Her right leg pistons out, using her chair as a projectile. The hard back slams into the torso of Helen Magnus, knocking the wind from her though she keeps a strong grip on her sword. H.G. rises and spins, one hand rakish on her hip as she tosses her head to get the tendrils out of her eyes. Helen idly pushes the chair out of her way and levels the sword at her houseguest's face.

"Is this your way of telling me I've outstayed my welcome?"

Helen smiles. "Of course not. You're welcome to stay as long as you like. Any friend of Nikola." She is dressed in a combination of male and female clothing, commonplace in this Sanctuary but scandalous in the streets. Her blouse billows around her arms and closes her throat in ruffles, but her trousers hug and expose every curve of calf and hip. Her knee-high boots afford her a better balance for her fighting pose.

"Then have I forgotten a lesson?"

"This is a lesson," Helen admits, "but it was not planned. One cannot ensure they will be in the proper attire and fully rested for a true attack. Enemies will not wait until you are prepared for their assault." She begins to move around the table and H.G. moves to maintain the distance between them. "You will be caught unarmed, unaware. I want to make sure you will be safe no matter the circumstances."

"I had no idea you cared for me so, Dr. Magnus."

"Of course, Mr. Wells," Helen says, stressing the honorific. "I love you, in fact." She lunged, leading with her sword. H.G. swept to one side, her skirts weighing her down and costing her precious seconds. The thin point of Helen's narrow blade caught and tore the crimson material and H.G. shrieked as if it had bitten flesh. 

Helen gives no quarter and attacks again. H.G. bends her knees outward, dropping her head below the arc of the swinging epee before Helen can adjust her blow. She then rises, closes her fist around Helen's arm just above the elbow, and forces her arm up so that the sword points uselessly at the ceiling. H.G. steps in close, her body tight against Helen's. Their choices in footwear make H.G. an inch taller than Helen, and both gasp as they look into each other's eyes.

"And I love you." H.G. pecks Helen's lips, an act so scandalous the first time now something she can barely go a day without. She feels Helen's tongue against her lips but denies it entrance, still forcing Helen to hold the weapon above her head like a torch.

The kiss ends and H.G. swings her leg out, then back in. She forces Helen's knee to bend, dropping her, and she forces Helen's fingers to release the hasp of her sword. Disarmed, Helen throws her weight forward, her arms around H.G. and her hands in fists in the small of the other woman's back. They fall together, knocking into a bookshelf and nearly burying themselves in leather-bound classics.

H.G. takes the sword and steps back, rising to rest the blunted edge of the weapon against Helen's chest directly over her heart. H.G. tucks an errant hair behind her ear and waits until her voice will be steady before she speaks. "Do you yield, foe?"

"Hardly." Helen shifts her weight almost imperceptibly so that even if H.G. thrusts the blade will only slide across Helen's shoulder rather than piercing her flesh. Without Helen beneath her, H.G. stumbles and Helen snatches the sword back from her foe. She puts her foot on H.G.'s hip and shoves, knocking her over. "Loser cries mercy."

With that, Helen turns and flees. H.G. uses the shelf to haul herself back up, stepping over the fallen books and straightening her clothes and the corset underneath before she gives chase. 

In the first minutes, H.G. manages to disarm Helen. Drawn into hand-to-hand combat, the advantage is clearly on H.G.'s side. They grapple, pulling their body blows and delivering relatively gentle open-handed slaps to rapidly pinking cheeks. Helen is good with a sword, having studied fencing from a young age, but H.G. grew up with a rambunctious brother. She can fight, and she shows Helen a thing or two before they end up tangled on the floor of the library struggling to catch their breath.

"Will you show me how you did that block?" Helen asks.

"Of course, darling."

Helen finds H.G.'s hand and brings it to her lips. She kisses the knuckles and H.G. smiles dreamily before rolling onto her side. They are both sore, tired, clothing torn. The ruffles at the collar of Helen's blouse are gone, torn away when H.G. attempted to use them as a leash. The top two buttons have also been pulled away, and a tantalizing expanse of pink flesh can be seen. H.G. touches it with two fingers, and Helen lifts her chin to allow the exploration. They have teased and tempted one another, had kissed and stroked and held one another but always fully clothed. H.G. has never known the touch of another woman, and she doubts Helen is as experienced as she seems. She walks her fingertips across Helen's collarbone, her heart beating triple-time in her breast as she wonders at how far she will be allowed to go. She finally raises her eyes and meets Helen's gaze.

"Neither of us has cried mercy."

"Not as of yet."

H.G. quirks her lips. "Ah. Were you planning another ambush?"

Helen pushes herself up and shifts her weight to level her face with H.G.'s. She touches the lines of H.G.'s face, tracing them with her fingers. "I've trained you in violence. Perhaps now I shall teach you a more... tender... assault." She lowers her head and kisses H.G. again, and H.G. moans into her mouth. When Helen pulls away she kisses the corners of H.G.'s mouth, her eyes, and the tip of her nose. 

"I have fought you too long, Helena Wells. I believe it is time that I lay down my swords and surrender to you."

H.G. suddenly realizes Helen doesn't mean their bout. "Helen..."

"Sh." She puts two fingers against H.G.'s mouth, and it's everything H.G. can do not to kiss and suck them into her mouth. "Mercy. Mercy, Helena. Take mercy on me." Helen presses her body along H.G.'s length, and H.G. pulls Helen to her as their kiss deepens. Before their kisses were a salve against what they truly craved, but this one was different. This one was the beginning of something more.

Helen touches H.G.'s face again, and smiles at her. "I'll come to you tonight. And then you may take the spoils of your victory."

H.G. smiles. "I look forward to it."

Helen stands and helps H.G. to her feet, and they kiss once more before they part. H.G. watches her hostess walk away, then moves through the maze of shelves to the table where her work waits. She looks at the complex designs, then opens her attaché case and places them inside. The invention could wait. Her only goal now was to ensure Helen Magnus was pleased when she arrived at H.G.'s room that night. H.G. smiles at the thought and hurries to her bedroom to begin preparations.


End file.
